#quanderies

It was silly of me to think that I went through those wars without scars. 

I went home with no disfiguration, but boy, I was part of a revolution. 

I lose most of the time, but being hopeful is not a crime. 

To the battle, we go, and that’s all that they know. 

It never made sense that those voices that creep in my sleep, 

for all of those unexplained fear as if death is near,

for all of those shackling delusions that disturb my vision. 

I am wounded yet unalarmed, diluted unable to bear arms. 

He came into my life with such promise, an old song with the usual premise.

Boy, I am a war veteran, being in pain is not a preference. 

I have served my nation right, the nation that is my heart. 

Humans can’t fly but the wars cut my wings serving the wrong kings. 

This caged bird can’t sing as she was just waiting for the Spring. 

It was silly of me, but the first fire had been shot, the horrors it brought. 

Fight of flight, make that decision it’s a minute to midnight.

going to war as a deputy or leave your country as a refugee? 

Then if love is a battlefield, for this time I yield.

What’s in a name? Well, I’ll tell you Shakespeare, that it is more than just letters. Our name seems to be the label that sums up who we are. Imagine just changing your name out of the blue. Would that not be odd? I feel like I might suffer a personality crisis if I ever changed my name. I have been called by variations of the same name for over a decade. Changing my name would be more than a simple legal process; it would be turning an important facet of my person-hood inside out. With this in mind, it seems like marriage should be a bigger deal than it already is to women. I suppose changing your last name is not quite as dramatic as changing your first name, and once you love someone enough to spend your life with them then you probably want their last name. Taking on your husband’s last name is a sort of connecting act, rather than a shattering of your previously assumed identity. It serves as a bridge between the you you were before marriage and the you you are afterwards. Same person, different initials. Many girls grow up expecting that their last names will change eventually. In a way, some of us implicitly prepare for it our whole lives. Some girls even prepare for this event explicitly, tacking every one of their crushes last names onto the end of their first name and scribbling the name of this pretend person in the backs of their diaries and journals. It seems like marriage is the exception to the rule of name changes producing personality crises.